To your information, dear reader:
1 - I'm publishing my story for the first time ever. I should warn you: english is not my first language, so dear reader, I'm 100% sure that you will find spelling, lexical and stylistic errors in the text. Sorry! Let me know what I should improve or correct. A constructive review is more than welcome. :)
Sadly, I don't own Naruto - neither Temari nor Shikamaru.
2 - I truly recommend reading while listening to "soundtrack" on yt. It will put you in right a mood. ;)
Rain on Leaves on a Forest Road in Autumn - on chanell Relax Sleep ASMR
3 - I'm upload remastered version of that story. I tried to correct lexical and grammatical errors. I hope this version is more readable than the previous one. I also changed the number of chapters: to make the composition more consistent.
- Oi?
She shouted down into the shady corridor, hoping that her husband would help her take right direction. She's not used to this old house. Not yet. Residence - she noted in her mind. This word had a sour taste for Temari. The Residence, again. A significant difference lay between the meaning of the term then and now. Once, "the residence" they called the place where she grew up. Now its meant only "big house". It's one of those differences that calmed her down. Even if she didn't feel at home here yet. Temari knew, of course, that it would change over time, just as her way of perceiving this green land had changed with their full range of five seasons. Initial strangeness and exotica became common. They sprouted green shoots into the core of Temari and became part of her. Landscape of the Land of Fire aroused now both nostalgia and security. But for now this house is just a place, located on the sidelines of the agglomeration, near the forest wall...
- I'm home! - she called, passing along the dark corridor on her wet feet, peering into another dark rooms.
A few days ago, the rainy season suddenly began with all its charms, which foreigners find difficult to get used to - even Temari, despite the practice acquired by working as the Sunan Ambassadress for the last six years. The worst charm in her opinion was the chronic lack of sunlight; heavy, dense, steel clouds that turn the day into a long hours of gloomy dusk. Yuck. Her biological clock was raging - no wonder, she blossomed in the bright sun of the desert! During Konoha's rainy season she felt constantly drowsy, distracted and sluggish. And that only irritated her at a higher level. In a properly functioning world day should be the day, night - the night! But no. She had to endure one and a half months of the nasty transitional state.
Such a charming gloomy "in a meantime"! It is this component of the rainy season which bother her the most, omitting such obvious things as perpetual rain that blurs horizon into a gray-brown-green cascade of colors; such as unbearably high temperature and humidity that makes breathing difficult, which also pushes, dries and glues hair - that things Temari can not say loud, because it seems to her that such trivial problems don't match to her position of a tough soldier (for which she worked hard whole her life), but she is very happy when Ino verbalises this frustrating feature of the rainy season.
Ino's loud complaining to the deplorable condition of her own hair gives Temari always great satisfaction. Although she remains then still silent, but nods very eagerly. Usually after the inspiring monologue of Ino - if, of course, they are accompanied by Sakura or Hinata - there is an exchange of proven beauty-care advice between girlfriends: how to deal with the subjugation of the hairstyle. Temari greedly collects all the beauty tips heard from the other kunoichi from The Leaf. She knows it's childish, she knows it's stupid, immature, that she can not overcome herself to ask girls directly. Well. She still learns how to be a woman.
She could be a female soldier, daughter, diplomat, sister, teacher and each of these roles required her to be de facto a woman, but now, since she is in a relationship, in a romantic relationship with a man, she discovers in herself vanity - because she wants to please him with her appearane, delicacy and sensuality - because she likes to be yin for his yang. Because of him she becomes feminine. And although she really wants it, although she likes her new self very much, although she find it so exciting, she feels lost in this stupefying feeling! A voice in her subconscious (annoyingly similar to her father's voice) insists that this so-called "woman" in her is nothing but a weakness. Defect. That no one can find out about this defect. That this aspect of character must be hidden, private, only at home, only for the closest ones ... Otherwise it'll be used against her. The basic tactic of breaking an enemy is to use his weaknesses against him. And kunoichi her class has no weakness. Kunoichi with her pedigree can not allow anyone to know the gaps in her hard armor. That's what life taught her. And paradoxically, that's why she is forgiving for herself.
Since the war, a lot has changed: the realities, priorities, assumptions of the whole system that shaped her. Temari knows that changing the patterns of behavior that are so deeply rooted in her takes time, but damn it, she is not the most impatient one! But yes, she is forgiving for herself, usually in her own hot-tempered way.
Fortunately, he is the closest one. He can know about all her weaknesses. Even about shamefull adventure of testing Leaf's homemade hair-mask made with micture of clay and herb that have to be washed off after all night long (first you have to scrape it with comb - experience), and which give a shit anyway. Hair at this level of humidity are still dry anyway, the ends are protruding and at the scalp they are stuck together. In a word - charm of the rainy season.
Temari left the empty corridor of the main building with a roofed engawa leading to the next part of the residential complex. She sighed. The rain rustle in the foliage calmingly. In the passed vegetable garden raindrops were splashing quietly in the puddles, and the wet steps of her bare feets (she was returning home in sandals) pounding on a wooden veranda. Now, after a full day of work, this sound didn't bother her. In fact, it was quite soothing. It calmed down her concentrated mind. And maybe that's why it was disturbing her so much earlier, when she tried to focus on the documents in the office.
She sighed again, This time she caught the smells in her nostrils: a wet wood, foul weather, cypress bark and a mixture of aromas from the forest wall. The aromas and sounds helped to relax the tense, always vigilant muscles of her body. With a shameless bliss, she allowed herself for this sensuality. For just being a civilian, a woman. Just being herself. In this brief moment she felt both peace and joy. She purred, closing her eyes, stretching. She smiled, involuntarily rubbing her neck with delicate movements of fingertips. This gesture was pleasant. She liked to be touched that way. Only he could touch her that way. The memory of the husband's touch and the circumstances in which she tasted it caused a faster heartbeat and a sucking feeling similar to feeling of hunger or longing. She suppressed the burning impulse directed by embarrassment to keep her hands off the neck. She didn't do anything wrong! Temari shifted her hands with a smooth, caressing flutter on her yukata collar. This gesture temporarily calmed the agitated blood until she realized that unconsciously she moved her hand to the right tab of the flap, stimulating the skin of her left breast, touching bump of hardening nipple, until her fingers stopped on the obi. This time a wave of hot embarrassment poured over her cheeks and ears. Before she reached the next building another sigh escaped her throat - this time it was heavy and nostalgic.
She found him exactly where she expected to find him. In bedroom. On the futon. Full clothed. He slept. Rocked by the soft hum of two turned on fans - to cool the dense, hot, humid air in at least this way.
She shouldn't feel surprised, but she was surprised. She had a dream that someday a day would come when Shika would return home before his wife and he wouldn't fall asleep from tiredness. He used to fall asleep 'couse an ordinary passion for this sport or 'couse his laziness, but since he made his life goals clear - in fact, from the time when they began dateing after the incident in the Land of Silence - he gave absolutely everything at work, even working off his ass. Temari appreciated it, really. Since then, his favorite long sleepy afternoons have become a rare privilege. The observation of this kind determination and enthusiasm was a joy for Temari, but also worried her a bit. She has impression that Shikamaru lacking balance. In the end, she fell in love with this lazyass for being lazyass. He changed, he grew up, he men up and at the same time he remained as he was. Just like that. It took them some time to grow up to each other, but they still share common goals and appreciate those features of their characters that complement each other, like two poles. Which gives them the opportunity to play an old, well-known game, in which she provokes him, and he teases her in response.
For some time they play with two scenarios of the game. In the first scenario a perverse and mischievous nature pushes Temari to wakes up her husband with a powerful tornado, name him lazyass, loafer and sponger and then she peacfully give a right pace of life in their new home. Then the young couple, shoulder to shoulder, deal with domestic matters, like cooking, feeding deer or doing laundry.
However, this new, caring and feminine part of her character prefer other scenario: she wanted to cover Shikamaru with a blanket, kiss his forehead and walk away on her tiptoes - just to not wake him from a well-deserved nap. Unfortunately, it usualy paid off with his grumbling: why didn't she wake him up, because if she did, he could help her in all the housework she done when he slept; well, yes, of course, he knows that Temari can chop firewood, but he is the man in this house, damn it, and he wants to do all men's household duties.
But this time she didn't know what she want. Or whether she wants to play at all.
All she knew was that she is disappointed that Shika was asleep. She is sad and frustrated. So frustrated! Because it's raining! Because those lack the sunlight! Because she feel constantly sleepy! She could not concentrate on work today! Humidity kills her! It's extremely hot! Soothing! And he is sleeping! And she missed him so, so, so much! Very much! She wanted to be close to him, to smell his skin ...
She sighed again, resting her weight on her other leg. She connected the facts and suddenly realized what kind of frustration it was. And what aspect related to the presence of her husband she missed the most. When he was so close, she doesn't feel ashamed of her own lust. Only with him could she be just like that: passionate and needy. With that thought she lay down next to Shika on the futon. He was sleeping on his stomach. Men wrapped his hands around the pillow on which his dark, loose hair fell - obviously they sticking to the forehead and the ends were dried and broken. Charms of the rainy season.
She comfortably adjusted the pillow under her own head and reached into her husband's face, pulling the tangled strands from his forehead. Now, in the semi-darkness of the room, she could see his tired face better. She was still stunned by his thick eyelashes. And how handsome he was. And how wonderfully sexy he smelled. A bit like a forest on an autumn morning, a bit of that characteristic aroma of a library or archive with files in the Hokage Tower. A bit like this house - with wet wood and cypress bark. And a bit of his own sharp, masculine, musky scent that made her shiver. It kept misting her and tangled her. She couldn't stop the burning urge to rub her thighs. The whole futon literally shook at the base with the sudden movements of her legs. The burning sucking flooded her again. She felt a terrible, terrible, terrible need. Temari's mouth filled with saliva. Ready for greedy kisses and empty without his flesh. It was more than pleasant to her, with that deafening feeling that she was so hungry for her own husband...
That's why whenever he - half-consciously - opened his eyes, then she asked without resistance, bluntly, with a wide, playful smile:
- Do you want me to suck your dick?
The continuation of the story is already written. I am in the process of translating it into English.
Thank you for your time.